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Evening Walk

10.10.19 Posted in today's words by

Alison Hicks’ work has appeared in Eclipse, Fifth Wednesday, Gargoyle, Louisville Review, Permafrost, Poet Lore, and other journals. Her books include two collections of poetry, You Who Took the Boat Out (Unsolicited Press, 2017) and Kiss (PS Books, 2011), plus a chapbook, Falling Dreams (Finishing Line Press, 2006) and a novella titled Love: A Story of Images (AWA Press, 2004).

Evening Walk
By Alison Hicks

In the winter, I took to walking after dinner
through Pembroke Arch into the quad, past Thomas, Canaday, and Taylor,
down the green by the dorms of Wissahickon Schist.

I’d go as far as the marble bench with “Moon” carved across its back,
turn around before the tan brick science building,
and walk back up, facing where the sun had gone,
watch the lights coming on, singly at first and then in groups,
yellow seeping out onto windowsills.

I’d walk slowly, putting off the going in, the turning on of my own light,
sitting down to more hours of work.
The sky at that hour didn’t care if I was lonely or afraid,
a friend to those looking to postpone what is sure to be coming.

Finer features sink.
Some things become clearer in the darkening:
what’s closer leaning in, farther away disappearing,
stone softening.

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